


Darkside of Freedom

by PeachWord



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachWord/pseuds/PeachWord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The FBI infiltrates the Pink Panthers and Neal is given his freedom but Peter mistakenly makes sure he never experiences it.  End of series AU. Season 6 possible spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day had finally come. The day where Neal had delivered the Pink Panthers to the FBI; he would finally get his freedom. At the moment, Peter and his team were handcuffing the ten leaders that held the crime ring together. One, however, was missing. Matthew Keller. His soon to be ex-CI was also missing.

“Have you seen Neal?” he asked Diana.

She shook her head as she pulled one of the Panthers, now in cuffs, towards the elevator.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A text from Neal was waiting for him. _Meet me by the pier, just you. Please._

***

Peter didn’t have any good feelings as he waited by the water. He tried calling Neal but there was no reception whatsoever.

“Agent Burke. So nice to see you again.” Before he even turned around, he knew who was standing behind him and he immediately reached for his gun.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that Burke.”

Peter turned around, his hand still on his holster. “Keller.”

“That’s me, last time I checked.”

“Where the hell is Neal?”

“Oh Caffrey?” Keller asked in that sly tone of his. Two men emerged, as if on cue, from the warehouse behind them. In between their arms was a bloody Neal. It appeared he had been beaten, badly.

“Let him go,” Peter commanded.

Keller shook his head. “I know you know that I had a deal with Interpol and I know you busted the Panthers. So now I need you call your supervisor and inform them that I had a hand in it.”

“You don’t deserve to go free. You belong in that Russian prison for the rest of your pathetic life.”

“I still see you are harboring ill feelings towards me, Burke. But you are going to pick up that phone and make that call, or your little wife won’t be back in time to make your dinner tonight.”

Peter’s heart dropped. Elizabeth. The baby. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

“That might be a little too late.”

He thought his lungs collapsed inside of him.“What…what the hell are you talking about?!”

Keller threw a phone at him. Peter picked it up and what he saw brought him down to his knees. He couldn’t see her face, but it was her. She was sitting on a chair, her hands tied behind her back, her wedding ring that cost him four months of his salary was on her slender finger, her dark brown hair messily fellow below her shoulders.

He looked up, tears brimming in his eyes. “Please. You don’t understand--”

“I do. Caffrey here told me she’s with child. Sweet. You might all be one big happy family if you play your cards right, so pick that phone back up and call whoever you have to.”

Peter didn’t think, he just did as instructed. He spoke to who the hell knows and told them Matthew Keller was involved in the take-down of the Panthers. Once he heard the dial tone on the other end of the line, he threw the phone back at Keller’s feet.

“Now let her go!” Peter screamed.

Keller rolled his eyes and nodded. “Of course, I always keep my end of the bargain.” He picked up the phone. “Yea, let her go,” he said into it. Peter was still on the ground, he was too consumed with worry and anger to do anything else. Keller knelt down next to him and shoved the phone in front of him, he saw on the screen someone cutting the ropes of El’s hands and her getting up and running out the door.

“Cut the zip ties off Caffrey. Looks like we won’t need him for leverage after all,” Keller said.

“Wait,” Peter said as he stood up; venom was now running through his veins. He walked over to Neal and simply stared, not at the deep cut on his forehead, or the bruises starting to form underneath his eye, or the blood around his mouth that was starting to crust into flakes, no, he stared into Neal’s eyes. They appeared sorry, but Peter, for the first time, didn’t care. “Take him with you.”

Neal’s eyes widened in fear and confusion. He shook his head. “No, Peter. Please! Please!” he screamed as he reached for his arm.

Peter stepped back. “Don’t touch me. I’ve been trying to help you, for almost a decade now. I’m sorry to have ever taken that deal with you six years ago. Just being near you jeopardizes everything I’ve ever worked for and everything I’ve ever believed in! You deserve this, I want you to know that.”

Tears fell from Neal’s eyes. “Peter…he’s--”

“Save it! I can’t have you near me, or my wife, or my child.” He turned to Keller. “Do whatever you want with him.” He turned back to Neal, who was completely limp in the henchmen’s arms. “I’m done with you.”

“This is turning out to be a better day than I expected,” Keller said. "You and me Caffrey, we're gonna have a lot of fun."

***

Peter got in his car, ignoring Neal’s cry for help. His cell phone still didn’t have any service, he knew he needed it though, so he sped off, not caring about the speed limit. Once on the West Side highway, he saw the bars on his phone. 

“Elizabeth?!”

“Peter, hunny. What’s wrong?” That awful pit in his stomach returned. She didn’t sound distraught, or scared. She sounded relaxed.

“Are you okay?!”

“Peter, what are you talking about? I’m fine. I’m drinking tea with Mozzie. He helped me baby proof the entire house this afternoon.”

Peter pulled over and turned the car off. The pit in his stomach seemed to explode now. He suddenly realized he never saw Elizabeth’s face in that video. Only the back of…someone else. They never had her.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he realized what he had done. He gave Neal away, transferred him from one captor to another, he broke his promise of freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

_7 months later_

Peter entered the hospital room, slightly out of breathe. Was it really him? Tears filled his eyes as he stepped closer to the bed.

He barely recognized the man laying there. An oxygen mask covered his mouth, but not the purples and blues on his cheeks or under his eyes. Gauze covered his wrists but he could already see the red daring to seep out onto the white. More bruises ran up his arms and covered his neck. He was also unsightly pale and unbelievably frail.

He had no one to blame for this, except himself. He was the cause of this.

Neal’s eyes opened slightly, he heard crying, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t him.

“Neal?”

His eyes opened wider; startled by the voice and who it definitely belonged too. He turned his head, ignoring the pain. He looked up and down. Peter. It was Peter.

“Neal, I’m so sorry. Please, I was so angry--” Peter stopped talking as the heart monitor started making loud beeping noises. Neal was breathing heavily and his whole body seemed to be shaking.

Neal eased himself up into a sitting position and yanked the oxygen mask away as a doctor and three nurses came barging in.  “Neal, Neal lay back down,” one of them instructed.

He lifted his arm and pointed at Peter. “Don’t’ you ever come near me again!” he wheezed.

Peter stepped back, not confused, but heartbroken.

Tears fell out of Neal’s eyes as he was forced to lie back down and the oxygen mask was put over his face. “Get out! Tell him to get out!!!” he cried. “I don’t want him near me!”

One of the nurses turned to Peter, “Please sir, you have to leave the room.”

“But I--”

“Please, you’re causing him distress.”

“I deserve this, right?!!” Neal screamed as more tears fell. He suddenly felt restricted, he looked away from Peter and saw the doctor placing restraints around his wrists. “No, please. Please don’t!”

“Sir, you’re very agitated, we just want you to calm down,” the doctor responded.

“I’m calm, I’m calm,” Neal repeated. “Please!”

These were the last words Peter heard as the door was slammed in face.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three days since Peter attempted to see Neal. Three days of no sleep and plenty of mental anguish. He couldn’t get that look Neal gave him or the pleas he screamed out of his mind.

“Can I help you?” a nurse asked.

He was interrupted by his thoughts and turned his attention to the young man sitting behind the counter.“Uh, yea. I’m here to see Neal Caffrey. I went to his room but he’s not there.”

The nurse nodded and pressed a few keys on the computer in front of him. “He’s been moved to a different floor.”

“Can you tell me which room?”

“Can you tell me your name?” he countered.

“Peter Burke.”

The nurse squinted his eyes at the screen and then finally looked up, “I’m sorry sir, I can’t give you that information.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Mr. Caffrey requested no visits from Peter Burke.”

Another string pulled at his heart upon hearing these words.“But--”

The nurse stood up and placed his hand on the phone in front of him. “If you don’t leave, I will have to call security.”

Peter ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. He turned around and started walking. The loudspeaker suddenly boomed to life, “EMERGENCY IN ROOM 301” He then saw out of the corner of his eyes, the nurse get up and sprint towards the elevator. Peter took this opportunity and turned around. No one was behind the counter. He looked quickly at the screen. Room 704.

Neal watched as the door opened. They kept telling him to sleep, that his body would heal faster if he did, but there was no way he was going to sleep. He had to stay awake, he had to stay alert.

“Please, don’t yell,” Peter said quietly as he closed the door. His nausea grew as he saw Neal’s injuries in the light of day. The bruising seemed worse, as if it were embedded in his bones, or as if it were painted on his skin and not even bleach could wash away the blotches or harsh marks that littered his neck and face.

Neal clenched his jaw shut and remained silent, his eyes never straying.

Peter dragged the chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat. He waited another 30 seconds, waiting for the bells to go off, waiting for Neal to throw him out. He didn’t though.

“What I said that day…what I did…it’s unforgivable. I never…I was so consumed with rage, that Elizabeth could have been hurt, that my baby could have been hurt.” He looked at Neal, nothing, no response. “I spent every day looking for you, I swear Neal. I did everything I could. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Again, Neal didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. No tears, no expression, no nothing. Peter knew he was on forbidden territory now.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted to say what I had to say,” Peter said as he stood up. He gave Neal one last look and turned to the door.

“Wait,” Neal whispered.

Peter turned around, hoping for more. He wasn’t hoping for ‘its okay’, he knew it wasn’t. He was just hoping for something, some unpleasant words he knew he deserved. He didn’t hope for what happened next though.

“Help me sit up,” Neal said.

Peter nodded, unsure what was going to happen; he put his hand on Neal’s back and bit his lip, undeniably feeling the bones as he breathed and the whimper he made as bruised bone and muscle moved.

Neal swung his bare legs over the bed slowly. He reached for the collar of his hospital gown and pulled it down, exposing everything from the stomach up.

Peter didn’t hide his tears. Bruises. Cuts. Burn marks. More bones itching to poke out underneath thin skin.

“Now look at my back,” Neal commanded.

Peter couldn’t move. He was too stunned by the horror.

“Look at it!” Neal commanded.

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and walked around the bed. “Oh my god,” he whispered. Deep jagged marks littered his entire back. Some looked like nail marks, some looked like teeth marks, others looked like knife marks. His spine was easily detectable, as were his ribs when he breathed in and out.

Peter couldn’t look another second and he walked back to face Neal. “Neal…I--”

“I know you put together pieces of a puzzle for a living, to understand what happened, but I’m going to tell you right now, that what you see before you, doesn’t even being to describe what they did to me,” he wheezed as he pulled up his gown and lied back down.

He looked at the floor, ashamed, embarrassed, broken. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I deserved this, right?”


	4. Chapter 4

_5 months earlier_

“C’mon Caffrey, turn over,” Keller said.

Neal wanted to say no, but all he managed was a whimper. A whimper that told his captor he was weak. Rough hands found their way to his throat. Hot breathe filled his eardrum. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

Neal rolled onto his stomach and waited. It didn’t hurt anymore, that was good. Hands dug into his skin and for a minute, he wondered if the flesh was being ripped off. That part always hurt.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Keller said.

He rarely snapped anymore, but he couldn’t hold his tongue at this comment. “I always knew you were a sick psychopath, but I didn’t know you were this sick,” Neal sneered.

“Oh you don’t know a lot of things, Caffrey. I’m here to teach you. Burke sent you to me to teach you, he said so himself.” The last sentence burned another hole in Neal’s heart. Keller punished him by prolonging this encounter by an extra 40 minutes; he wasn’t particularly gentler or rougher than any of the other times, but when he was finished that’s when he decided the real fun was going to start.

“No! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said,” Neal cried as the knife carved into his skin.

This got him a firm backhand across the face, hot blood smeared the wooden floor as it dripped from his mouth.

“You really never learn do you? It would be to your benefit if you listened Caffrey,” Keller said as he started engraving the second letter into Neal’s forearm. “If you don’t keep still, I’m going to cut a vein. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Neal took his free hand and covered his mouth to stop himself from screaming, or maybe it was to stop his impulses from telling Keller the answer to his question was yes.

****

_4 months earlier_

“I know you’re hungry Neal, so why aren’t you eating?” Keller asked as he took a bite of his filet minion. “I bet Burke never fed you this good.”

Despite this comment, Neal’s stomach grumbled loudly, and then his cheeks felt warm with embarrassment. Steam rose from the plate and the enticing aroma of spices and flavors whiffed in the air and into his nostrils. The steak in front of him indeed looked delicious, mouth watering even; but he thinks a breadcrumb would have looked appetizing to him at this point in his captivity.

He wanted to reach for his knife and fork, he wanted to cut into this piece of meat and devour it, but that wasn’t going to happen. Keller was such a goddamn sadist.

His eyes blinked heavily and he really didn’t want the water to escape from them, but he couldn’t even feel it if they did. His uncuffed and untied hands hung limp over the arms of the chair he was sitting in. He had too much of that goddamn tranquilizer running through his system. He couldn’t even feel his toes.

“C’mon Caffrey, last chance to eat. Otherwise you’ll have to wait till next week,” Keller said as he stuffed another piece into his mouth.

Neal tried, he really did but his body wouldn’t listen. Oh he was so goddamn hungry. He felt sheer joy when he thinks his pinky moved. His eyes thwarted downward, yes! 30 seconds later he felt another finger move.

Keller grinned as he took a sip of his red wine. “Nothing like entertainment when you eat, huh?” Keller snapped his fingers and one of his associates, one Neal particularly disliked, came over and grabbed his plate and dropped it on the floor next to his feet. Keller’s yellow lab immediately ran to it.

Neal was pretty sure the tears were falling now as Charlie finished his dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. The end of this chapter is dark, of course.

“Agent Burke, we meet, yet again,” Detective Margo sighed under her breathe as she took a sip of her coffee. She was hoping for a quiet break at the cafe across the street from the station where she spent far too many hours.

Peter nodded. He wasn’t sure why he was here this time. This was the 12th time he ‘accidentally’ bumped into the young NYPD Detective.

The day the Panthers were disbanded, the Attorney General signed Neal’s release papers and he was technically a free man, but Peter knew he wasn’t. He reported Neal missing but the FBI wouldn’t get involved since he wasn’t their responsibility anymore. They told him to file a missing persons report with the NYPD, so that’s one of things he did. Correction, that’s what his guilt made him do.

“Agent Burke, I understand you care about Neal, and we are doing everything we can to catch Matthew Keller, but unless he shows up around the corner, it’s going to take some time to find him.”

“Has Neal…said anything?”

“He confirmed Keller was the one who took him, other than that, he hasn’t said a thing. Until I get a copy of his medical report from his doctors, all we can do is guess what happened to him. Obviously from the looks of him, not anything good.”

Peter nodded and remained quiet.

“Agent Burke, you said Neal was you CI for about six years?”

“Yes.” She didn’t ask a follow up question right away. “Why do you ask, Detective?”

“I asked about you a few times, about his time at the White Collar Division and the encounters he had with Keller during the Nazi U-boat scandal. He gives very short answers about you. You talk about him like he’s your best friend, but he only talks about you as if you were his boss. Why is that?”

Peter didn’t look in her eyes, in fact, he looked away. “Neal and I have complicated relationship.”

***

When he got home later that afternoon, he didn’t feel any better. Elizabeth, now 7 months pregnant and gorgeous as ever, asked him what was wrong. He smiled and told her nothing, just a long day at work.

After they ate dinner, and after he washed the dishes, he retired to the couch. A knock at the door woke him from his doze; he was very surprised at who was on the other side of it.

“What are you doing here?”

“My time in Paris unfortunately made me miss Mrs. Suit’s baby shower, but I didn’t forget about it,” Mozzie answered as walked in with a gigantic wrapped box in his arms.

“Elizabeth is sleeping; she’ll be glad to have…whatever that is I’m sure.”

Mozzie nodded. The two stood, somewhat awkwardly next to each other. “I saw him today.”

Guilt filled Peter, yet again.

“Thank you.”

Peter looked at the shorter man, confused.

“I know you helped that NYPD Detective find him. They would’ve never found him without you. Now that Neal is back, and his deal with the FBI was finalized, he can actually be free. You made good on that promise Suit. So, thank you.”

Peter couldn’t take it anymore and started crying.

Mozzie didn’t know whether to run out the door or grab a tissue. The latter prevailed. “Uh, look, tears aren’t my thing man but…everything okay?”

“It’s my fault. All this. My fault.”

“What are--”

“The day Keller took Neal, he used him as leverage to get me down to the Pier. He said he had Elizabeth, and that if I didn’t tell my supervisors he was involved in the take-down, he would hurt her. I was so angry, I couldn’t even think. I told Keller to take him. I didn’t want him near me , near Elizabeth.”

Mozzie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you? You couldn’t have done that. You couldn’t have been responsible for this…Neal…Neal thinks of you like a brother, like a father--”

“I know! I know! It was only after it was too late that I realized Keller had conned me…he never had Elizabeth. But I was so angry--”

“Do you know how many times Neal has defended you? Every time I suggested we run, that we cut that stupid anklet and leave, he always said, ‘I can’t leave Peter,’ ‘Peter’s given me a second chance,’ ‘Peter trusts me not to run, to make the right choices.’ Do you know how many times??"

“I do. I screwed it all up.”

Mozzie picked up his gift from the table and headed for the door. He gave Peter a hard look. “ _You_ were supposed to protect him. You really need to think about what that word 'protection' means, you’re about to be a father.”

Peter felt tears coming. He had a choice. He could sit here and cry the rest of the night, repent for his sins that could never be erased or he could go to Neal and somehow try and make this right.

***

_He knew he shouldn’t be this close to the window, he knew he was going to have the little bit of life he had left in him beaten out if he got caught, but he didn’t care. He wanted to leave._

_The chains around his wrists made it hard to maneuver the nail he had in his fingers but he finally got it in a screw and started turning it. Yes, please, please. The window lifted just an inch and cold breeze hit his face, stinging the open wounds on it. It felt so good._

_He got it open another inch before Keller walked in. He didn’t even turn around._

_“My my, Caffrey. Were you thinking of going for a stroll in the park or something?”_

_Those hands were on him again, around his waist. Keller’s hot breathe on his neck, his mouth around his ear lobe._

_“Please don’t--”_

_“Look at you, saying ‘please’. I’m impressed.”_

_“No--”_

_Keller grabbed his arm and turned him around, pushed him against the wall and placed his hand around his neck. “You don’t get to say ‘no’, unless the two word ‘don’t stop’ come right after it. Got it?”_

_Fat tears built themselves in his eyes. “I…” Keller squinted his eyes and curled his lips. “I’m sorry,” he finished. Now the tears fell._

_Keller nodded. “Give me your arm.”_

_Neal shook his head. Keller slapped him across the face, before he could fall to the ground he caught his arm and pushed him further into the wall. “Give me your arm.”_

_He obeyed and looked away as Keller brought out his knife._

_“I might just finish my art tonight, Caffrey.”_

Neal woke in a pool of his own sweat. And tears too. He wasn’t in that room, he wasn’t in that room, he kept reminding himself. Someone was calling his name, it sounded so familiar.

“Neal? Shhh. It was a nightmare.” Peter. It was Peter. He should hate Peter. He did this to him. But Peter used to make him feel safe. He couldn’t feel his heart right now though, it was beating so fast he thought it was going to run away; if he didn’t calm down, he was going to die. He didn’t survive all that just for it to end like this.

He felt a hand on his and he grabbed it. He didn’t push it away, he held onto it for dear life.

“It was a nightmare,” Peter said again.

More tears fells down his cheeks, “No, it wasn’t,” he sobbed. “It wasn’t!”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said quietly as he grabbed a tissue with his free hand.

After a few minutes, Peter gave him a cup of water and he seemed to calm down just a bit. “I know you hate me, I hate me too--”

“I don’t want to do this right now,” Neal whispered.

Peter nodded. He didn’t push the subject. He didn’t get a ‘Yes, I do hate you,’ but he didn’t get a ‘Get the hell out of here,’ either.

“Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?”

Neal let go of his hand. “No.”

Peter nodded. “Sometimes, it--”

“I’ll show it to you instead.” He reached for the gauze covering his left forearm and peeled back the tape, he hissed as oxygen made contact with the open wounds.

Peter covered his mouth with his hand. The word ‘WHORE’ was carved into his skin.


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh, you’re still in bed…” Mozzie stated. He glanced at his watch, it was close to five in the evening.

“I got up,” Neal said, his tone was robotic.

“Did you?”

Mozzie thinks he heard him say ‘yes’, but it came out in such a low whisper that he wasn't too sure.

“Is this all you’re taking?” He looked at the duffel bag on the couch; all he saw in it were Neal’s many passports, a pair of jeans and a few t-shirts. “Don’t you want to take any suits? Any paintings?”

“Those aren’t my suits, and those aren’t my paintings,” Neal said in between yawns.

“June gave them to you. What’s she going to do with a bunch of suits? And what are you talking about, mon frère, of course those are your paintings.”

Neal sighed and finally sat up. He brought his knees to his chest and laid his chin on his knees. “Those paintings belong to Picasso and Monet. They’re just imitations…they’re not mine.”

With the sun setting, Mozzie turned the lamp on and Neal winced at the sudden shock of brightness. He caught Mozzie looking at him, staring, judging him in the most non-judgmental way a friend could. He saw his eyes roam to his exposed collar bone and he knew his friend was going to stuff calorific Indian food down his throat later.

Since he left the hospital three weeks ago, his bruises had almost faded, and Mozzie never stared at them in the interim. Neal was glad they were going away, but it felt strange to him too. He had them for so long. It was as if they had become a part of him. He chuckled the first time he thought about that deranged paradox. Missing his bruises. Wow. Maybe he should have talked to that hospital psychiatrist.

“So, have you decided where you want to go?”

“No…but somewhere warm,” Neal answered as he ran his fingers over his scarred arm.

“When do you want to go?”

“I want to say goodbye to June, so day after tomorrow.”

Mozzie nodded.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I want to tell you I saw the Suit today.”

Neal's lips parted but no words followed.

“It was Mrs. Suit’s baby shower. Believe me, I didn’t want to see him. I’m just as angry with him.”

“I’m not angry with Peter,” Neal said quietly.

“What? Why not? He betrayed you.”

“I made him betray me. What happened…is no one’s fault but my own.”

“Neal. Seriously? You seriously believe that?”

He shrugged at the crazy look his friend was shooting him. “It doesn’t matter, Moz. Nothing matters.”

Mozzie didn’t really know how to respond that. “I’m putting a hit out on Kel--”

“Don’t say his name. Please.”

Mozzie nodded. “Sorry.”

“And don’t do that…don’t put ‘a hit’ on…”

Mozzie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "Why not?!"

“I…I just…I don’t want to deal with all that.”

“You don’t have to deal with anything. I’m dealing with it.”

“Please, Moz. I just want to leave…I just want to go. I don’t want to think about any of this, waiting for the day for you to tell me he’s been taken care of, it’ll hang over me.

Mozzie nodded. That didn’t mean he would listen though. “I’m going to order food. Indian?”

Neal opened his mouth with the intention of say he wasn’t hungry, but again he said nothing. The thought of his friend lecturing him on how he stayed in bed all day while not eating a thing, dissuaded him.

“Okay, okay. Italian?” Mozzie asked.

Neal forced a smile. “Sure. I’m going to take a shower.”

An hour later, Neal was sitting at his kitchen table with a heaping plate of spaghetti in front of him. It was cold, but that was his fault. He spent 45 minutes under the hot water, scrubbing. Mozzie didn’t say anything about his red skin. He was lucky to have Mozzie.

“You don’t like it?”

Neal looked up from his plate, startled by the question. “I like it.”

“How do you know? You haven’t taken one bite. Stop twirling it around on your fork and eat.”

Neal brought the fork to his mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “Thanks.”

Mozzie nodded, he understood. “Nine more forkfuls. Please.”

“I want to leave tomorrow instead,” Neal said after his fourth bite.

“What about saying goodbye to June? She doesn’t get back from California until the day after.”

Neal didn’t answer right away, but after he swallowed his sixth forkful of pasta, he retired the fork to his plate for good. “I want to say goodbye to her, I do…” Tears slid down his face slowly. “I just want to leave…I hate this fucking city.”

Again, Mozzie was never good with tears; but he was good with Neal. Although the rage inside him was growing with every tear he shed, he handed Neal a napkin like it was the next natural order of business. He sipped his wine while he watched his best friend break and pull himself back together again.

He put his hand on Neal's shoulder. “Then we’ll leave tomorrow.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't a particularly happy ending, but it's not particularly sad either. However, it's the best I could do with resolving the story. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

“Please, I need to talk to you.”

Neal kept his hand firmly on the door, ready to shut it in Peter’s face. He didn’t want to do this, but he knew it was coming. He wasn’t sure this beat his nightmares entirely, but it was a distraction from them nonetheless.

After a good minute, he brought his hand down and the door slowly opened.

Peter walked in, really unsure where to go from there. He watched Neal step away from the door, his hands crossed over his chest, waiting. There was no anger embedded in his features, it was exhaustion.

“So talk.”

“Aren’t you going to close the door?”

Neal didn’t take his eyes off Peter. “You’re not staying long.” There was no bitterness, no harshness; it was just stated as a simple fact.

Peter bit his lip and nodded. He saw the duffel bag on the couch. “Where are you going?”

Neal didn’t answer. Then finally he said, “For the first time, that’s really not any of your business.”

Again, Peter nodded. He deserved that. “You look better…”

“Then what?”

He deserved that too.

“El’s shower was really nice, a lot of presents--”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare fucking do that.”

Peter’s hands started shaking. “Do…do what?”

“Start talking about your perfect wife, your perfect baby shower, your perfect life. Did you come here at 2 in the morning to shove it in my face? Oh, poor Neal Caffrey will never have that--”

“God, Neal, no!”

“Then you came here under the assumption that you could just start talking to me about your life like nothing happened, like nothing changed, like you didn’t shove me in the corner you outwardly expressed all these years that that’s where I belonged.”

“Neal, I--”

“Well sorry, Agent Burke, you’re wrong. I wasn’t shoved in a corner. I was chained to a cement floor, in a cold basement poisoned with asbestos, starved, beaten, raped.” Neal sarcastically chuckled, “I guess that’s my fault though, right?”

Peter bowed his head in shame, “I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t answer that. I brought it upon myself the moment I asked you to meet me in jail six years ago, and I proposed that stupid, crazy idea that I would be you criminal informant. I sealed my own fate.”

“This was not your fault. It was mine.”

Neal eyes widened in wild amazement. “Oh really? It was your fault? Then why aren’t you in jail? You were an accessory before the fact, were you not? A conspirator? Is it because you’re better than the justice system you claim to love so much? Only a criminal like me could be charged with a crime?”

“I’ll turn myself in if that’s what it takes.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Don’t do me any favors. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. I wouldn’t want to take you away from your wife or your child. I certainly wouldn’t want to ruin _your_ life.”

Then Peter started crying, not to elicit sympathy from Neal but for his fault in this. “Goddamit, Neal. I can’t say sorry anymore. It doesn’t mean anything, I know that. I just wish I could take it back.”

Neal waited, he didn’t comfort Peter, he didn’t tell him to calm down; he just stood his ground. After a few minutes, and after the tears stopped, Peter headed for the door.

Neal touched his arm. His eyes were no longer wild, they were calm and even. Neal knew what he had to do. Not for Peter’s sake, but for his own. “I’m not mad you. I really don’t blame you, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes squinted in confusion. Neal never lied to him, and even in this fragile ordeal, his body language conveyed that he was telling the truth.“But you should.”

Neal nodded. “I know. But I can’t live the rest of my life holding a grudge against you. It won’t do me or you any good. This whole thing still happened. Whether I forgive you or not.”

Before Peter could say anything, Neal started talking again. They were words he would never forget.

“But I need to never see you again. I need to never see this city again. I need to never see a lot of things again. That last part is a problem unfortunately because when I close my eyes I see those things I really never want to see again. So, I’m doing what I can to appease the first two. So, please don’t look for me, don’t try and contact me. Don’t obsess over me. Pour that obsession into your child.”

“Neal--”

“No, Peter. You and I are broken. It’s not out of anger or sadness, it’s really not. It’s just the way it is. And if you want to start making your guilt of all this a little less, then that’s what you have to do. You have to let me go.”

Peter stood there, unable to say anything.

Neal stuck his hand out. “You did a lot of good things for me over the years, Peter. Do one more.”

Peter nodded and grabbed the younger man’s hand. He couldn’t help himself and pulled him into a hug, Neal didn’t resist.

“I really am sorry, Neal.”

“I know.”

For the first time in 8 months, Neal slept through the night without a single nightmare. He was free.

 


End file.
